直面现实　Forced to Face the Facts

Resolve, and thou art, free.

～Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

“Hey！Why don't you try our pulmonary function test?”The young woman in the American Lung Association booth next to mine tossed her auburn ponytail as she gestured towards her spirometer. The steady flow of customers passing by our displays had dwindled in the late afternoon.“Might as well face the facts and learn if you're up to par.”

I cast a wary eye at her equipment. All day I'd been watching people huff into a mouthpiece, and then peer at the results on a printout.Some beamed, but others frowned.I was pretty sure I'd be another frowner.I feared I wouldn't be up to par.

The previous year my father had died. For the last few years of his life he had to make frequent retreats to the bedroom to lie down and breathe with the aid of an oxygen tank.Yet he never quit smoking.Neither had Mom.And, so far, neither had I.

It was mid-December 1984 and the HMO I worked for in downtown Long Beach, California, had staged this wellness fair to provide a service for holiday shoppers and to recruit future enrollees. As a psychiatric socialworker, I'd been staffing the mental health display, handing out brochures and fielding questions about stress reduction, anxiety, phobias and, ironically, addictions.

Throughout the day, I'd asked my pony-tailed neighbor to keep an eye on my booth while I escaped to the alley behind the building to grab a quick smoke. She'd smiled sympathetically each time.But now I thought I saw reproach in her eyes as she wagged her hand towards the machine one more time.“Come on，”she urged.

My results were about what I had anticipated. I was functioning at about 80 percent of normal capacity for my age and height.Apparently, the aerobic dance class I'd been enrolled in for the past several years had been keeping me ft, but the smoking was definitely taking its toll.

On New Year's Eve I thought about tossing out my pretty pink leather cigarette case with its convenient pocket for my gold lighter. Not yet, I decided.Maybe later.But I vowed to quit smoking.

New Year's Day I scurried around the condo, taking down holiday decorations. Keep busy, I'd told myself.I believed that if I kept my hands occupied I wouldn't need a cigarette.By nine o'clock, I usually had smoked a couple of cigarettes with my morning coffee.This day I had skipped both the coffee and the filter-tips.But by ten o'clock, I gave up.I grabbed my cigarette case and went for a walk.The first drag provided instant relief, and by the time I’d circled the block and stubbed out the butt, I felt better.

As the months dragged by, I would remember my resolution and make new attempts. But cold turkey didn't do it for me.I tried tapering off, the buddy system, relaxation exercises, even affirmations.

I read all the literature that informed me that within five years of quitting, my stroke risk would be reduced to that of a non-smoker. After ten years, my lung cancer risk would be about half that of a smoker's.After fifteen years, my coronary heart disease risk would be equal to a non-smoker.But just as reading diet books hadn't decreased my weight by a single ounce, reviewing these brochures didn't reduce my urge to indulge.

By spring, I'd cut back a little, but not much. I still found myself several times a day huddled under the awning behind the HMO, puffing away while the April showers dampened my hair and sweater.

By early summer, I'd surrendered to despair. Imagery didn't work.No amount of picturing me sprawled on an idyllic hillside or lounging on a tropical beach could counter the intense craving I experienced after more than two hours of not smoking.

Finally, in June, the psychiatrist I worked with took me aside.

“I do hypnosis in my private practice on Saturdays. Come up this next Saturday and let's give it a try.I'll give you a reduced rate.”

I trusted this doctor implicitly. I'd tried everything else, so I might as well try this.I nodded.

“If you can imagine yourself as a non-smoker, your subconscious mind will absorb that as reality，”he explained.“You'll be able to relax without needing a cigarette.”

Saturday morning I gathered up all my ashtrays and put them in a cupboard. I purposely smoked the last cigarette I owned on the drive to his office.The session took less than an hour.The doctor began by putting me in a relaxed state, and ended by giving me some positive post-hypnotic suggestions.

I drove home full of optimism. Upon arrival, I threw away my leather case and lighter.

For the first week, as the nicotine slowly left my body, I felt tin-gly. I knew it was my nerves reawakening and there was no reason for alarm.After a month or two I no longer found myself glancing about for my cigarette case when the telephone rang.Eventually I learned what to do with my hands when conversing with friends.

Why did it work for me?First, I desperately wanted to quit. I had faced the facts, knew what happened to my father, and seen the printout of my lung test.Second, I believed my doctor, who assured me that hypnosis would put an end to the craving.Third, I reframed my attitude-by quitting smoking I would gain good health, not just give up a decades-long comfort.

Five years later I took another pulmonary function test and learned I had regained all my previously lost lung capacity. Now, well over twenty years later, I marvel at how I remained enslaved for so many years.

Each New Year's Eve, I rejoice in the choice I made back in 1984 to become a non-smoker. And I thank that auburn pony-tailed girl for forcing me to face the facts.

～Terri Elders

下定决心，你将获得自由。

——亨利·瓦德华兹·朗费罗

“嘿！你为什么不做做肺功能检测呢？”我的展台旁边就是美国肺病协会的展厅。展台里面一位年轻女士一边用手势指着自己的肺活量仪，一边捋着自己那枣红色的马尾辫。快到傍晚时，展览厅里没有什么客人了。“最好还是面对现实，看看自己能不能达到正常水平。”

我狐疑地瞥了一眼测量仪。一整天我都看见那个展台里面人来人往，大家把嘴对准测量仪，然后盯着刻度计上的结果。有的人面露喜色，有的人愁眉苦脸。我敢肯定，我测完也是愁眉苦脸。我生怕自己达不到正常水平。

我爸去年刚去世。在离世的前几年，爸爸经常卧床不起，需要用氧气管来辅助呼吸。但他老人家从没戒过烟。我妈也从来没有戒过烟。而我，到目前为止也还没有戒过烟。

那是在1984年12月的中旬，我在加州长滩市中心的一家保健组织工作。我们单位参与了那场保健展览会，想借机给假期购物者提供保健服务，并招募新成员。作为一名精神病方面的社会工作者，我被分配在心理健康的展台，负责分发小册子，回答关于减压、焦虑症、恐惧症等方面的问题。具有讽刺意味的是，我还回答关于成瘾方面的问题。

展览的那天，我过一会儿就让旁边那位扎马尾辫的女士帮我看着点展台，自己则溜到展览大厦后面的小巷里面抽上一口烟。每次出去，女士总是露出同情的笑容。可是现在，我却从她的眼神里面看到了责备。“过来呀！”她用手指着测量仪叫道。

测试结果果然不出我所料。按照身高和体重对照的标准来看，我的肺活量只达到正常水平的80%。显而易见，我几年来坚持跳有氧操有助于保持健康，但是抽烟确实危害健康。

新年前夜，我想丢掉自己漂亮的粉色皮烟夹子，连带着上面的打火机袋一起扔掉。我决定先等等再说。不过，我还是下决心要把烟戒了。

新年那天，我在公寓里面瞎忙一通，把节日的装饰收拾好。我自言自语道，不要闲着。我觉得只要双手不停地忙着就不会想抽烟。平常一到上午九点，我就会喝点咖啡，抽几根烟。这天，我没喝咖啡，也没抽烟。但是撑到了十点，我就坚持不住了。我拿起烟夹，出去走了走。点上烟，我刚抽一口就顿觉轻松。在小区里转了一圈，我把烟头掐灭，感觉好了很多。

转眼几个月过去了，我仍然记着自己的新年决心，不断地努力尝试。但是烟瘾却一次次无情地将我击败。我尝试过抽烟量逐渐递减的方法，还找过烟友相互监督，共同戒烟。我做过放松训练，也试过强化训练。

我认真读了一本书，书里说戒烟五年内，患中风的可能性就会降低到不抽烟人的水平。戒烟10年后，我的肺癌患病率会比抽烟的人低一半。15年后，我的冠心病患病率就会降低到不抽烟者的水平。我看了不少减肥方面的书，但是体重一点都没有减。所以看完这些戒烟的小册子，并没有减少我的烟瘾。

春天，我要减少抽烟量，减一点点而已。上班时，我每天仍然蜷缩在单位后面的遮雨棚里面抽上几口，任凭四月的雨水打湿头发和毛衣。

初夏时分，我彻底崩溃了。不管怎么想象都不管用了。一旦断烟超过两小时，什么美好的意象都失效了，不管是想象坐卧在美妙的田园山腰，还是躺在热带海滩，都挡不住我焦躁的喉咙。

到了六月份的一天，跟我一起工作的一个精神病专家把我叫到一边。

“我每周六都在我的私人诊所里面给人做催眠。下周六，你来一趟吧，我给你试试。费用上，我会给你打个折扣。”

我心里还是比较信任这个大夫的。我什么都试过了，再试试这个又何妨呢？我点了点头。

大夫解释道：“如果你把自己想象成不抽烟的人，潜意识就会把这个当做事实。这样即使不抽烟也能心境轻松了。”

周六那天，我把所有的烟灰缸都收拾到柜橱里面。在开车去诊所的路上，我特意把剩下的最后一支烟抽掉。整个诊断过程不到一小时就结束了。大夫先是让我放松，催眠后给了我一些积极的建议。

在开车回家的路上，我满心欢喜、乐观无比。一到家，我就把烟夹和打火机全都扔了。

第一周，随着体内的尼古丁慢慢排出，我开始感觉到刺痛。我知道这是我的神经在经历苏醒，所以没什么可担心的。一两个月后，电话铃响的时候，我眼睛不再瞅着烟夹了。我终于知道和朋友聊天的时候，如何管住自己的手了。

这一招为什么管用呢？首先，我拼命地想把烟戒掉。我直面惨淡的现实，我知道父亲的遭遇，也看到了自己的肺活量检测结果。其次，大夫告诉我催眠术可以使我彻底戒烟，我信任他。再有，我改变了自己的态度，我知道戒烟放弃的是几十年放松的方式，但获得的将是健康的身体。

过了五年，我又测了一下肺活量，结果显示我已经恢复了正常的肺活量水平。20多年后的今天，当我回首往事，不禁感慨自己当初竟然过了那么多年的烟奴生活。

每到新年，我都为自己1984年作出的戒烟决定而欣喜。每个新年，我都对当年那个扎着枣红马尾辫的女士心存感激，感谢她当年迫使我直面现实。

——苔莉·埃尔德斯